Robert Asprin - No Phule Like an Old Phule

"None yet, sir," said Moustache, standing at attention. He could have been modeling for a Legion recruiting poster, so perfect was the stance. "They've got a fair bit of territory to cover, though. Most likely it'll turn out to be some local wildlife we haven't seen before."

Phule tapped his fingers on the desktop. "Likely enough," he conceded. "Funny we haven't seen it before, though, if that's what it is. We have guards out every night, and nobody's reported moving lights before."

"That could be readily explained if the phenomenon were seasonal, sir," Beeker pointed out. "We've not been here an entire local year yet, so we've hardly had sufficient opportunity to observe all the phases of the indigenous fauna."

"True enough," said Phule. "But Flight Leftenant Qual didn't seem to know of any animal that might be causing it, either."

"Duly noted, sir," said Beeker. "However, Mr. Qual is a military person by profession, not a naturalist. Nor is he native to this region of his planet. He may be no more familiar with its denizens than we are."

"I guess that makes sense," said Phule. "Still, I'd be happier if we got some kind of definitive result from our search. If we don't, I may have to station a team out in the desert after dark, to see what they can find out. And I don't like doing that when I don't know whether I'm putting them in danger."

Moustache said, "Sir, if I may comment." He paused briefly, and at Phule's nod continued. "If whatever made those lights is dangerous, there is no reason to think it's any less so in broad daylight. If our search team finds nothing today, I myself would not hesitate to send them out again at night. The camp's safety is an overriding issue, sir."

"Thank you, Moustache, the point's well-taken," said Phule. He stood up and paced, thinking, then turned, and said, "In fact, I think we ought to plan for that. First..." He was interrupted by the buzz of his wrist communicator. "Yes, Mother, what is it?"

"Code Red, sweetie," came the familiar voice, with an edge of urgency Phule hadn't heard before.

"Code Red?" he asked, feeling stupid. "But that means..."

Mother's answer removed any doubt. "The desert search team is under attack!"

"ALL RIGHT, YOU SLOBS, COME GET YER ASSIGNMENTS TO YER NEW UNITS," bellowed Sergeant Pitbull. He waved a thick sheaf of regulation Legion envelopes in his hand, presumably one for each of the recruits in his platoon.

The recruits came to their feet in an excited babble of voices. This was the moment they'd all been waiting for the next step in their Legion careers. It meant, for one thing, that the recruits would now go on to the specialized training they'd requested when they'd joined the Legion, rather than an endless round of bodybuilding exercises and mindless drill under Pitbull's relentless eye. In fact, for most of them, just getting away from Pitbull was sufficient cause for celebration. Whatever else Legion life held for them, it was likely to be an improvement over basic training.

Thumper rose to his feet without particular enthusiasm. Whatever camaraderie he'd felt for his fellow recruits had vanished when he'd realized what had happened to him during General Blitzkrieg's inspection visit. Somebody had deliberately set him up to take the blame for the insult to the general-possibly more than one somebody had set him up, in fact. He'd spent a long time trying to plead his innocence, and a longer time in a punishment detail. He suspected that only his perfect record in all the exercises leading up to the incident with the general had kept him from being drummed out of the Legion then and there. But Sergeant Pitbull had made it amply clear that the consequences were far from over. And one of those consequences was almost certainly going to be reflected in his first assignment. Now, it looked as if there was no chance for him to end up in the elite unit he'd requested upon enlistment...

Pitbull read each recruit's name and their assignments as he handed them their letters. "POPPER-FORT KABOOM," he barked. Popper, a dumpy, shortsighted humanoid from Tau Ceti IV, beamed---ever since he'd arrived in camp, he'd been talking about how much he enjoyed blowing things up. Now, at the Legion's demolitions training school, he'd get a chance to do it on a grand scale.

"SPIDER-YOU'RE ON TEAM REGULUS," said Pitbull. That was a good assignment, too, and fit Spider's personality. Team Regulus was the Legion's Home Guard unit, sharing ceremonial duties at-Alliance Headquarters with elite groups from the Regular Army and Starfteet. The assignment had more to do with spit and polish than with fighting ability, but that made it all the more a plum for many legionnaires.

Several of the recruits were sent to advanced training in various behind-the lines specialties, but at least half of them went to advanced combat training with frontline units. This was the core of the Legion's mission, of course, and Thumper had nurtured hopes, even after the disaster with General Blitzkrieg, of getting into an outfit where he could prove his worth again from the ground up-despite the fact that, as far as he knew, there were no ongoing wars anywhere in Alliance territory in which to display his martial prowess.

After most of the names had been read, Thumper began to suspect that Pitbull was saving his name for last-he'd seen him shuffle through the envelopes, obviously picking the order in which he wanted to announce assignments. This was annoying, but there was nothing Thumper could really do about it. Until the recruits were placed on a transport ship to their new units, Pitbull was still their immediate superior and could order them around as he saw fit. Being a drill instructor, he usually saw fit to do so in the most sadistic way possible. This batch of recruits would soon be gone from Mussina's World and Legion boot camp forever-or so they devoutly hoped. But Pitbull wasn't about to pass up his final opportunity to torture and humiliate them.

Finally, the last envelope was in the sergeant's hand. He grinned crookedly and held it up to the light. By now, all the recruits were aware whose envelope it was, and curiosity was even stronger than their excitement over their own assignments. Pitbull waited for silence, then announced with a flourish: "THUMPER-OMEGA COMPANY!"

"Omega Company?" Thumper was stunned. As short a time as they'd been in the Legion, all the recruits had heard rumors about Omega Company. Once the dumping ground for all the misfits and malcontents of the Legion, it had been taken over by a new commander, who reportedly had turned it around. Omega Company was in the news; in this boring interval between real fighting action, it was getting sent to interesting places. It was exactly the sort of assignment Thumper had hoped for. "Excuse me, Sergeant, is that correct?"

"YER *%!!@#-A IT'S CORRECT, RECRUIT!" Pitbull roared. "THE GENERAL INSISTED ON IT, AND THAT'S RIGHT WHERE YOUR SORRY ASS IS GOIN'! THAT CONCLUDES THE ASSIGNMENTS! AS YOU WERE, YOU SLOBS! DON'T LET ME CATCH ANYBODY GOOFING OFF-I CAN STILL HAND OUT PUNISHMENT DETAIL!" And Pitbull turned on his heel and stalked away.

"Under attack?" Suddenly Phule's adrenaline began to surge, and the focus of his attention narrowed to a pinpoint. "Attack by whom? Can you patch them through to me?"

"I couldn't hear who the attackers were," said Mother.

"All I got was a message from the team saying that somebody-or something-was attacking them. There was a lot of noise, but 1 couldn't tell exactly what was happening. The signal keeps breaking up, and 1 don't think they have a whole lot of time to chat with us, anyway. But hold on. I'll see if 1 can raise them again and put you through."

"I'll be ready," said Phule. He became aware that he was on his feet, although he had no memory of rising from his desk chair. In the corridor outside his office, he could hear the sound of running feet. "Meanwhile, sound General Quarters," he ordered. "I want every available member of the company ready to go bail them. out." He turned to Moustache and Beeker, who had both heard the entire ,conversation. "Sergeant, get a relief party together without delay. I'll give you your orders as soon as 1 know what needs to be done. Beeker grab me those stereoculars we're going out to see if we can't spot somethin'."